


If Not Now

by bazaar



Category: The Owl House (Cartoon)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Gay Disaster Amity Blight, Luz teaches Amity Spanish, also the ukulele, because it is the most precious idea, bonus chapter for more FLUFF, dinner at the nocedas, i watched the whole show in a day and this popped out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 08:33:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25966687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bazaar/pseuds/bazaar
Summary: She’s going to tell Luz how she feels.Just not now.(Amity struggles to find the right words. Turns out, they might not be in her language.)
Relationships: Amity Blight/Luz Noceda
Comments: 304
Kudos: 2074





	1. como fué

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y'all, this is a quick detour from my other fic, but I really just want to share my love for this show with y'all! Hopefully I do these two some justice.
> 
> Enjoy!!

There’s something to be said for Amity’s taste.

She’s not sure what it is. Not sure if it’s good _,_ but it’s definitely… _something._

“I can fit ten marshmallows in my mouth!”

It shouldn’t be cute, but when Luz turns to look at her, eight marshmallows later, Amity finds that it is, in fact, very much so.

The sun is bright, and the afternoon air is clean and doesn’t smell like rotting carcasses. They’re enjoying lunch out on the grounds of Hexside, and although lunch had been nice with Willow and Gus, the two of them have gone inside to set up for a meeting. Now, Amity is twelve kinds of thrilled to be sitting alone with Luz. She’s trying so hard to pretend that she’s not, but Luz has been charming and funny and now she’s showing off these strange human treats and the feeling that’s been welling up in Amity’s chest for weeks is threatening to bubble over for the forty-eighth time today.

“Hrfffrhgrrrf!”

Forty-ninth.

 _What an absolute mess,_ she thinks. “Say again?”

“Hrrrffff—“ She starts pulling the white puffs out of her mouth until she can chew on three. It’s cute. It’s gross… No, it’s cute. “I bet I’ve got you beat!” Luz says, pumping her fists in the air. “I am the champion! I am the chubbiest bunny!”

“I’ll let you have this one,” Amity concedes with a smile. She doesn’t need to compete for that title. “…where did you get those?”

“One of Eda’s human trash hauls! I was so excited when I saw them, you have no idea!” She gives Amity a coy smile that is very not good for her normal brain function. “These are… dare I say… a human _delicacy._ ”

“They look like Snaggleback eggs.” Amity picks one out of the plastic bag. White and squishy, vaguely powdery—they’re _exactly_ like Snaggleback eggs. “Are you _sure_ you know what these are?”

“Of course!” She tears one apart. Squishy on the inside, too. Not an egg. “They’re sweet and fluffy and if I eat too many my hands start shaking!”

Amity blinks. “I’m not sure if I’m missing something, but that doesn’t sound... like, good?”

“Oh, pfffft.” Luz waves her off. “I’m fine! I just sometimes feel like my heart is going to explode and if I don’t move I’ll die!” She leans in really close. _Way_ too close. She waggles her eyebrows. “But I haven’t died.”

Right now, Amity can relate. Her heart climbs into her throat as she desperately searches the barren wasteland of her mind for a response, but Luz hops up before she can.

She offers her a hand. “Come on, if I’m late for potions again I’ll have to clean out the storage room.” She pulls Amity up, and in true Luz fashion, _way_ too close. “There’s so many live bugs, Amity.”

Luz’s face is inches away. Brain no worky. “Bug bad,” she says, and wants to lay face down in the mud for a while so she can listen to the sound of her self-respect quietly fizzle out.

But Luz, unlike every other living thing she’s ever encountered, doesn’t judge her choice of words. She just nods solemnly. “Bug bad.”

Amity’s heart threatens to burst out of her chest.

She’s going to tell Luz how she feels.

Just not now.

* * *

The woods are a great place to think.

Amity needs space to think. There’s no way she can manage this without a game plan. At home, she can’t avoid Emira and Edric long enough to make this happen, let alone _think_ for more than two consecutive minutes. At school, she’s bound to run into someone she knows. Her reputation is already in the furnace, but this would be so much more than social suicide.

So she stations herself in a clearing, not far from the Owl House. There’s a little reflective pond, a fallen tree near the edge of the woods, and a large, flat rock. The woods are strangely silent today, but all the better for her. She sets her carefully constructed bouquet on the large rock and sits by the edge of the pond.

She takes a deep breath, studies her reflection in the water. Her expression reads: _terror._ She tries to school it into something friendly, something nonchalant. She makes finger guns at the pond. _Extremely_ nonchalant. “Hey Luz. Funny catching you here at, uh… the house you—hm… live in.”

She tries again. “Luz, how’s it going? I just happened to be in the area… miles and miles away from my house… _wow_ , no.”

Then, “Hey, you guys frying owls in here?”

Then, “I found these flowers just—yeah, just _lying_ on the ground. It—they—they were pretty. Like your—like _you!”_

Finally, “I cannot deny my heart any longer! Luz, I have come to win your affections!”

She raises her hands to the sky, flops back on the grass. “I am a big idiot and I can’t talk right and you’re so pretty and I’m going to mess this up.”

Maybe if she lays here for long enough the ground will eat her whole and she won’t have to deal with this stupid, persistent, all-consuming—

“Hello? Is someone out here?” Calls the voice that occupies Amity’s mind rent-free.

Amity gets up so fast she almost falls into the pond. Of all of the people in every part of these gigantic woods—her blood freezes in her veins.

_The flowers._

She scrambles over to the rock, stepping on what has to be every twig and crunchy leaf in the entire forest as Luz’s voice gets closer and closer, obviously following the noise she’s making. Flowers in hand, she searches for a hiding spot, somewhere to store them for safekeeping. Yes, she’s _planning_ on giving them to Luz, but not right now, right at this moment. _This is not part of the plan._

“Hello-o-o—oh! Amity!”

She pitches the bouquet into the pond.

“ _Luz!”_ Her voice comes out so loud it scares a flock of crows out of a nearby tree. “How—h-uh why are you doing here? Uh. Huh. What—“ She shuts her mouth, face hot.

Luz, ever adorably oblivious, completely misses the stroke Amity’s been having and stomps right over for a hug. It’s so warm and friendly and Luz squeezes the life out of her and really, if this is how she has to go, let the Titan take her now.

“I’m picking mushrooms for Eda!” She steps back and smiles brighter than a million of her light spells. “Her and King are making some sort of… like, witches’ brew, which is _awesome._ They gave me a basket—“ She looks down at herself, basket-less. “That is gone now. I guess. Anyway, what are you doing out here? What’d you throw in the water?”

“Nothing! Just some, you know, _nothing._ Don’t worry about it!” She laughs, and it is so fake that even _Luz_ has to pick up on it. Why can’t she pull herself together for _five seconds?_ “So, mushrooms, huh?”

Luz looks concerned, which is very scary and bad. “Are you okay?”

Amity wants to scream. _Now_ she notices? Instead, she tries to control her breathing. “Mhm,” she grits out, “never better.”

Luz studies her face, and while she might enjoy having those warm brown eyes on her, the scrutiny is sure to root out what she’s been trying so hard to keep under control. She wants to say something clever or distracting, but the expression on Luz’s face shifts to something a little closer to understanding.

“You’re worried,” she says, like she’s uncovered a great secret. Amity is about to deny the statement ten ways to Sunday, but Luz continues, nodding to herself. “The history exam. Uhg, me too.”

“ _Yes,_ ” Amity sighs, “the history exam. My worst subject.”

“Tell me about it! I can’t remember what I did _yesterday_ and I’m supposed to remember the exact dates of the Faerie Uprising? _Pffft_ , I didn’t even know there _was_ a Faerie Uprising!”

Amity knows the exact dates of the Faerie Uprising, the names of the inciting parties and every single battle fought. She doesn’t say that. She says, “ _History._ Uhg.”

Luz shakes her head with a fond smile. “You know, my mom used to sing to me when I was anxious. She’d hold me and rock me back and forth like this.” Much to Amity’s horror, Luz wraps her arms around her shoulders and rocks them both. She coos, “Back and forth, back and forth…”

It’s a little jerky and uncoordinated, and Amity has never been more tense in her life. It’s a feat. She’s usually _very_ tense.

Then Luz starts to sing.

“ _Como fue… no se decirte… como fue…”_

Her voice isn’t trained, but it is beautiful. Amity swoons, yes, but she also understands, objectively, that she’s biased. That she shouldn’t be allowed an opinion on the things Luz does because the girl makes her trip over her own two feet. But the way Luz holds her and sings to her… she may not have any idea what the song is about, but she does know how it makes her feel. That has to count for something.

“… _pero de ti me enamoré!”_ She finishes the song, her head resting on Amity’s shoulder. “It’s actually kind of a romantic song, but my mom loves it.”

The knowledge makes things about twenty times worse, especially in their current position. She tries to breathe. “It was nice. What language is that?”

“Oh, it’s Spanish!” She pulls away, leaving Amity feeling bereft. “I guess you guys don’t have Spanish here.” She thinks for a moment. “Hey… I could teach you some! If you want, of course.”

It’s so sweet of her. She’s so sweet.

“I would love that.” She means it so genuinely, and it’s another excuse to hang around Luz. Hopefully, with a little more time to prepare.

And she _will_ prepare. She’s going to tell Luz how she feels.

Just not now.


	2. de ti me enamoré

She’s steeling herself for the inevitable.

The second hand on the clock creeps along as it has every single moment of this miserable week. Her final class isn’t over yet, but unlike the rest of the day, there’s nothing after. This is it, this is what she’s been preparing for.

In about an hour, she’ll be at the Owl House. Alone, with Luz.

When she reminds herself of it, the butterflies in her stomach put on steel-toed boots and start kicking at her insides.

After Luz had invited her, she’d set immediately to planning. There has to be a method to this, a way to remain calm under pressure. There _must_ be a way to hang out with the girl she has spent every waking moment thinking about (and most of her sleeping moments dreaming of, with the exception of the nightmare she’d had about bugs eating her feet). Whatever this mystery method is, it also has to involve her declaring her feelings.

The prospect of doing so is more viscerally terrifying than the idea of bugs eating her feet, and she’s beginning to think that there’s no rules to having a crush.

By the time the final bell screams, she’s so worked up she all but vaults over her desk trying to get out of the room. She hears Boscha’s mean-spirited laughter from behind her, but there is nothing that could bother her more in this moment than the inevitability of her ineptitude.

“ _Amity!”_

From the moment she'd woken up, she'd been hoping that seeing Luz rather than just thinking about her would be calming, but that had been a stupid idea. The girl comes barreling at her, arms wide open, and Amity has exactly one second before she’s hoisted into a hug. She doesn’t know why she bothers trying to prepare for Luz.

“Luz,” she wheezes, more than content to have the air squeezed from her lungs. “Hi.”

Luz sets her down but keeps her arms on Amity’s shoulders, a wild grin plastered on her face. “ _Lista?”_

“What?” Was she supposed to study for this? _How_ was she supposed to study?

“Ah! It’s your first word!” She claps her hands together, hopping around in place. “It means 'ready'! Don’t worry, I made flashcards and everything!” She does a little wiggle with her hips. “Oooh, this is so exciting!”

 _Can someone_ cute _you to death?_ Amity wonders absently. Like an adorable whirlwind, Luz whisks her away, taking her hand as they leave the school grounds. Her hand is sweaty and her grip is firm but comfortably so and as they stroll through the woods together, Amity decides that holding Luz’s hand is her new favorite thing to do. She tries not to think too long on the fact that Luz had initiated this. Her heart’s already under a lot of stress.

“How about I teach you some stuff on the way?” Luz proposes. “Like, look around us— _arboles!_ Trees!”

“ _Arboles,_ ” Amity tries, bashful.

The word doesn’t sound the same in her mouth, but Luz’s whole face lights up. “That’s it! We’re gonna be having whole conversations in _no time._ ”

It’s just one word, but Luz’s excitement is infectious. It’s so refreshing to be able to have fun, to be genuinely excited about life. Luz brings that out in her, that childlike wonder she’s buried at the behest of her parents. She’s only fourteen. She doesn’t have to grow up yet.

Luz points out other things on their walk. Every time she does, she squeezes Amity’s hand, gestures to the object in question. Amity parrots the words, clunky and strange with her bad accent. But she’s trying, and the joy on Luz’s face every time she does makes the embarrassment well worth the effort. She’s always been a perfectionist, but she can stand to enjoy the journey for once.

The words are beautiful when Luz says them. _Viento:_ the wind that blows gently through her hair. _Sol:_ the sun, sparkling in her eyes. _Manos:_ her hands, even sweatier than before, still holding on tight. _Luz:_ she laughs at this. Light. The thing that expands out from her chest. The way she makes Amity feel.

And she _will_ tell Luz how she feels.

Just not now.

* * *

“I can’t—you’re going too fast— _Luz!”_

Luz cackles, rifling through her flashcards. “ _Vamos! Ya sabes esto!”_ She shoves a flashcard in Amity’s face, on which she’s drawn a picture of an owl. “ _Dale, dale!_ ”

“Luz!” She cries, laughing, trying to get away from the barrage of flashcards. “I don’t know!”

Luz chases her with the cards, shouting commands in Spanish. “ _Quitate la vergüenza! Habla conmigo!”_

Although she’s healed, running in the Owl House is just as dangerous as running with a broken leg. There’s crap _everywhere_ , and it stands to reason that either Eda’s taken another one of her so-called “sabbaticals” in the human realm, or she’s found another trash slug.

Still, she’s slightly more nimble than Luz, who keeps tripping and dropping her cards. It’s funny because she’s not getting hurt, laughing every time she struggles back to her feet. With the space between them, Amity has a moment to think about the translation. It’s only her second Spanish lesson, only been two days since her first, but she’s been going over words at home in the dead of night when Ed and Em are fast asleep. Unfortunately, she hasn’t been getting much sleep because of it, but she’s been trying so hard to learn—

Amity gasps. “ _Búho!”_

Luz’s head snaps up where she’s collecting her cards, strewn across the floor. Her mouth widens into a huge grin and she tosses all the cards she’s just picked up into the air. “ _Yeah!_ I knew you knew it!” She hops on to her feet. “This calls for a celebration!”

“Luz, you can’t give me something for every single word I get right!” She says this, but she’s hoping the celebration is a hug like it had been the very first time she'd remembered a word correctly. If she gets a hug every time, she’ll have to rescind the comment. “I’ll never learn that way.”

“It’s called _positive reinforcement!_ Also I’m pretty sure I've only mentioned that word once, so I’m very proud of you!” She saunters behind the kitchen island. “I knew you’d pick it up—“ She snaps. “— _así._ Which is why I made you these!” The oven opens its gaping maw and Luz pulls out a plate of yellowish discs. She sets them on the island with a flourish. “ _Tostones!”_

“Are—do you eat them?”

“They are very much for eating, yes.” To demonstrate, she takes a bite of one, doing a little dance as she does. “So _good!_ You know, with all of the crazy food you guys have, imagine my _shock_ when I see _platanos_ in the market!”

They haven’t gotten to that word yet. “Did they call them something different? These don’t look like anything I’ve seen.”

“The guy at the stall called them ‘fruit from the murder tree’, which is… I mean, _really_ terrifying.” She takes another bite with a smile. “But they’re just _platanos_ —plantains.”

 _Murder tree fruit?_ “Luz, how much did you _pay_ for these?”

Luz looks taken aback. “I—well, Eda bought them for me! She saw me looking and when I was at another stall, she ran at me screaming and picked me up and… and we flew away.” Luz frowns at herself. “Then when we got home… she took them out of her hair.” She purses her lips, staring at the food, then glances up at Amity. “Okay, so I don’t think Eda _bought_ them.”

The look on Luz’s face is priceless. The theft is less so. “That adds up,” Amity says, trying not to laugh.

“ _Man_ , I just… I just wanted to do something _nice_ for you and now we’re eating… _illegal fruit._ ” She takes another one, offering Amity the plate. “I guess we have to hide the evidence.”

“Normally, I’d have some very strong moral objections.” _But I can’t say no to that face._ “But they do smell good.”

“They taste even better!” Luz sings.

She’s a little skeptical, as murder tree fruit isn’t known for tasting great. It’s used mainly as a poultice, expensive because of the harrowing feat of harvesting from the aptly-named _murder tree_. Then again, she’s never seen it _cooked_ before. Luz explains that she’s fried chunks of the fruit, smashed them with a plate, and then fried them again with a little salt.

The result: “ _Wow,_ ” Amity hums around a bite. “Like, _wow_ wow.” Dense and crispy, just enough salt and oil to enhance the delicate flavor of the fruit itself. It’s obviously not healthy—it’s _delicious._

Luz squeals. “Oooh, I’m so glad! One day, I’ll have my mom make her world-famous _mojo_ for you. Dip these in it? To _die_ for.”

It’s a casual remark, but the mention of meeting Luz’s mother sends her heart into overdrive. Luz babbles on about other foods, but Amity’s thoughts are now stuck on how much this all means to her. Luz is introducing her to her food, her language, her _culture_. She’s mentioning the prospect of introducing Amity to her _family._ This easy care comes so naturally to her. Amity wonders if the girl knows just how rare that is.

They eat the _tostones_ in the kitchen, followed immediately by more flashcards. By the time the sun begins to set, they’re on the couch, exhausted. Luz also has decided that the best place for her head is in Amity’s lap, and Amity has decided that she’s going to have a coronary.

“Oooh,” Luz says, “can you give me _mimos?”_

“Luz, I’m going to remind you again that you haven’t taught me the entire Spanish language yet.”

“Okay, okay… but this one’s very important. Here—“ Not disturbing their position, she reaches back, grabs Amity’s hands where they’re awkwardly folded on her chest, and shoves them into her hair.

Now Amity doesn’t have to decide to have a coronary. _She’s having one._

“What… uh, what am I supposed…”

“Head scratches!” Luz declares, letting Amity’s hands go. She looks up with a face so adorably pouty, Amity has to tighten her jaw to keep herself from just—“Pretty please?”

So she scratches Luz’s head. _Her hair is so soft_ , Amity muses. Luz’s eyes have slipped closed, and she hums happily as Amity runs her hands through her hair. It may well be the most nerve-wracking thing she’s ever had to do, but she gets to look at Luz’s face undisturbed.

It’s such a quiet moment, Amity lets herself get lost in it. She catalogues the features of Luz’s face; the shape of her jaw, the arch of her brow—

The door _slams_ open.

“ _HOOTY HOOT!”_

It’s not the smoothest thing she’s ever done, by any stretch of the imagination. She throws Luz off her lap, scrambling to her feet. Her face feels like she’s just stuck it in an oven, her hands are in the air, and Luz is face-down on the rug.

“ _I didn’t not doing anything!”_

Eda and King are at the door, a massive sack behind them.

Eda sighs, yanking the sack past the doorframe. “I don’t know or care about what you two were doing on my couch— _King!_ Help me with the goods!”

“I smell something tasty!” King declares. He runs over to Luz, peeling her face off the floor. “ _Where is it?”_

“I made _tostones!_ There's still some in the kitch—“ He drops her head with a _thud_ and sprints to the kitchen. “Ow.”

“Sorry, Luz!” _You're an idiot, Amity! What were you thinking?_ She berates herself, helping Luz off the ground. “I just got a little scared—“

“Did I spook you?” Comes the most annoying voice Amity has ever had the misfortune of hearing. “I’m pretty good at that, you know! One time, there was this flying cat—“

She’s going to commit murder. For real this time. Luckily, Eda slams the door behind her before she can, which only muffles the insufferable monologue.

“ _Excellent_ haul today,” Eda says, proud of herself. “Lot of very good thievery going on. Around—“ She gestures to herself. “These parts.”

“Did you get me anything cool?” Luz peers into the open sack, but Eda shoves her away. “Hey, I want some trash too!”

“I’ve got to decide what I’m willing to part with.” Eda rummages around in the sack herself. “I found a couple of these.” Her hand emerges with some sort of small—

“A ukulele!” Luz shouts, making a grab for it. Eda jerks it out of reach. “Come _on!_ You just said you had a _couple._ ”

“Four, actually.” Eda examines the instrument, looks between Amity and Luz. “I can part with the crappiest ones, but if the other two get me some snails, I’m taking them _right_ back.”

“ _Deal!”_

The crappiest ones are… very bad. She manages to avoid the garish neon yellow and pink one, which Luz is more than happy to take. She’s excited, though, so Amity goes along, listening carefully as Luz explains the five chords she knows.

Luz’s “chase-and-yell” style of teaching had been fun, but this? Sitting close on the couch, ignoring the sounds of King and Eda arguing in the kitchen, Luz gently placing her fingers in the right configurations? This is wonderful.

She watches as Luz runs a hand through her hair, trying to remember how the song she’s playing goes. The afternoon light plays on her skin, her hair, her eyes. Amity’s heart swells, she’s not sure if she can contain it.

She’s _going_ to tell Luz how she feels.

Just not now.

* * *

“ _Ow!”_

Amity realizes, two seconds too late, that her cover is blown. She doesn’t have enough time to hide the thing that’s hurt her, much less the fact that she’s been hiding—

The door flies open. “Mittens?”

She wants to think up an excuse. It’s futile, though. She opts for a much less evasive, “Get out!”

“What is _this?_ ” Emira singsongs, not _getting out_. She leans against the doorframe to the pantry. “Seriously, what are you doing?”

Edric peers over her shoulder. “Playing guitar? How _cute_ , Mittens!”

“It’s not a guitar— _uhg,_ get _out!”_

“You’re right! It’s a cute _baby_ guitar for our cute _baby_ sister,” Ed coos.

Amity draws a circle in the air, ready to summon an abomination to drag them off into a ditch or cover them in goo or _anything_ to get them away from her. Unfortunately, they’re the worst people in the Boiling Isles and they quickly fire back with a counter-spell that dissolves the abomination before it can take form.

She glowers up at them. “What do you _want?”_

“We can’t just be concerned for your wellbeing?” Emira frowns, dramatic as usual. “You’re hiding from us! We know you only hide from us when something’s wrong.”

“Oh, you think so? You think, _maybe,_ I’m hiding from you because I don’t want you _bothering_ me?”

Edric waves her off. “Pfff, _that_ can’t be right.”

Amity is too slow on the uptake, even though the following move is something she’s been subjected to since she took her first breath. Em presses herself against one side of the doorframe, giving enough space for Ed to sit. He doesn’t sit, though, he snatches Amity’s notebook right from under her, hopping back up before she can so much as react.

“What do we have _here?”_

Amity can feel her face heat up. “ _Edric,_ ” she grits out, “give it _back._ ”

“What language is this?” Emira leans over the book, flipping through the pages, sealing her fate with every turn. Amity has always wanted to be an only child. Now is the time. “'Translations for basics…'” she reads.

Amity makes a swipe for it, but Edric lifts it high out of her reach. “' _Spanish?'”_ He reads, looking mildly impressed. “That’s our Mittens. Studying made-up languages in her free time when she could be doing literally anything fun.”

“It’s not made-up! It’s the first language Luz—“ She’s made a fatal error. She sees it wash over their faces before she realizes what she’s divulged. Their eyes widen in that creepy, simultaneous _twin_ way that’s always freaked her out a little. Matching wolfish grins spread across their faces. If her face wasn’t red as a crab-apple, it is now. “I’m just learning! Leave me alone!”

Emira whistles. “You’ve got it _bad_ , Mittens.”

“We knew you had it, but we didn’t realize… the _severity._ ”

“You know what I _don’t_ have? My _book._ Give it and _get! Out!”_

She makes another wild grab for it, but Emira draws a circle and it pops out of existence for a second, only to reappear on the ceiling.

“No can do, little sister.”

“We need _all_ the details.”

She’s going to explode. She’s going to explode _them_. She just doesn’t know how yet. They’re blocking her only exit, and all of the highly flammable objects are in the workshop in the backyard, anyway.

“There _are_ no details.”

“Well, _first of all_ ,” Edric begins, pointing at the ukulele clenched in her fist. “You’re obviously learning a song for Luz, so that’s a _big_ detail.”

“I’m not—“

“ _Second_ ,” Emira interrupts, “you’re learning her language _._ That one’s a _very_ big detail.”

Ed all but shrieks. “This is so _exciting_ , Mittens! We’ve been waiting for _years_ for your first real crush!”

“We thought it was that girl with the blue hair? You remember, the one you wouldn’t leave alone—“

“Stop it!”

“—but you were like six. This is so much _worse._ ”

The two of them cackle in unison. It’s bad enough that they get like this about every last bit of her personal information, but this is more than that. She absolutely hates that they’re right—she _does_ have it bad.

There’s only one way to get out of this with her dignity (partially) intact.

“Would you leave me alone if I admitted to it?”

They look genuinely surprised. They glance at each other in the way that has been the precursor to many of Amity’s childhood horrors.

“For now,” they say.

She can work with that. She swallows her pride.

“I like Luz.” It feels strange to say it out loud after thinking it for so long. The admission is soft, and the looks on her siblings’ faces soften to match. “I’m going to tell her how I feel,” she says, and while it has a sense of finality, her mind finishes the thought.

_Just not now._

* * *

She’s ready.

She’s done everything she needs to do, and she is one-hundred percent—

“ _Amity!”_

—not ready.

Luz is waiting for her outside. She runs up for a hug, tighter than ever before. Amity feels like she’s going to pass out.

“Sorry about this,” Luz says, gesturing down to the ukulele Amity’s brought. “I don’t know how much Eda got for the other two, but she threatened to turn me into a slug if I didn’t give them back.”

“It’s no problem.” It’s the perfect excuse to bring it around, really. Exactly what Amity needs to carry out her plan. “Although I think you’d make a pretty cute slug.”

Where did _that_ come from?

Luz grins, one of her ear-to-ear smiles that makes Amity’s heart stutter in her chest. She almost misses the dusting of pink on Luz’s cheeks. _Almost._

It emboldens her enough to put one foot in front of the other, and to follow Luz into the Owl House. Hooty, still wary of her, is uncharacteristically silent. It’s a good sign for things to come, she hopes.

Eda’s out again, probably committing a felony, and King is knocked out on the couch, surrounded by candy wrappers. Luz directs them upstairs to her room, and when she grabs Amity’s hand again, Amity can’t be sure whose palm is the sweaty one. Maybe both? The nerves are making her jittery and unfocused, but she knows the plan. She just has to stick to it.

She sets up on Luz’s bed. It’s now or never.

Luz rummages around in her satchel. “Let me grab my flashcards—“

“I learned a song,” she blurts. She can _do_ this. “For you.”

Luz looks up from her bag, eyebrows ascending into her hairline. She opens and closes her mouth a few times. “For me?”

Amity nods. If she doesn’t do this now, she’s absolutely going to lose her nerve. She pats the space next to her on the bed, and Luz obliges, silent. Amity doesn’t look at her. At the very least, if this goes wrong, she won’t have to look Luz in the eyes while she embarrasses herself.

But Luz just sits patiently while Amity plucks at the rusty strings, making sure they’re in tune. She’s already checked five times, but it can’t hurt.

She clears her throat, takes a shaky breath.

“ _Como fué…_ ” She begins, and has to actively stop herself from judging every note she sings. "... _fué una luz... que iluminó todo mi ser..."_

The words are creaky and awkward and she doesn’t have Luz’s accent or her musical ability, but she does have a crush and an ever-present need to impress. This isn’t exactly impressive, she thinks, but she can only hope that she’ll get an ‘A’ for effort. It had taken a _lot_ of work to get this far—a very illegal visit to the human realm, courtesy of her siblings’ secret stash of forged keys and spell-papers (from which they don’t yet know they’ve been robbed), and also a wild goose chase to find documentation of this very song. It had seemed impossible at first, and it’s not perfect, but she’s only beginning to realize that she doesn’t need to be perfect for Luz. It’s a first.

“ _…pero de ti me enamoré.”_ She finishes, fingers fumbling over the last chord. When she looks up, “ _Luz!_ Oh—don’t! Don’t cry—I’m so sorry, I just… I wanted to—“

“I like you so much, Amity.” Her voice is watery and thick with emotion and it takes a long moment to process what she’s just said.

“You…” She opens and closes her mouth three times. Her head: empty.

But Luz just nods, still crying. Her cheeks are ruddy and tear-streaked, sniffling, eyes red, and she’s the most beautiful thing Amity has ever seen. “Can I kiss you?” She asks like it’s nothing. Like Amity hasn’t been dreaming of this very moment, like she’s asking to borrow a pencil. But that’s just Luz, and Amity loves it.

She’s just _asked_ —Amity nods so fast her head feels like it’s going to fall off her neck.

It’s good that Luz at least has a grip on herself, because Amity feels like she’s been turned into a statue. Luz leans in. Luz kisses her.

It doesn’t last long, but it’s soft and it’s sweet and it’s gentle and it’s magic. Amity is one hundred percent, absolutely falling in love.

So as it happens, she doesn’t have to _tell_ Luz how she feels—she _shows_ her. They’re giggling, faces close, and Amity can’t help but lean in again. She just has to.

Because if not now, when?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there we go!! i hope y'all enjoyed!!
> 
> first off, [here](https://www.cocinadominicana.com/197/tostones.html) is a recipe for tostones should you want to make them! i'm not dominican, but tostones are something cubans and dominicans have in common, and i am VERY familiar with them
> 
> i am going to say rn that my gf is my muse and i learned this song for her for xmas/hannukah last year, so that's where most of this idea came from lol
> 
> [here's my fav version of the song!](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ojytcx7cabQ) also, today would have been my abuela's 84th bday and Beny Moré was her fav, so there's that too
> 
> anyway, hit me up on [twitter](https://twitter.com/bazaarwords) and [tumblr](https://bazaarwords.tumblr.com/), and if you're into she-ra, stay tuned for more of my [catradora theater AU!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24985339/chapters/60491401)


	3. bonus round: comida caribeña

She can _do_ this.

“You can do this!”

“I can do this!” A pause. “I can’t do this. Luz— _Luz?_ Did you hear me? I can’t—“

Luz spins around and grabs her by the face, squeezes her cheeks together with her palms. It’s become Luz’s go-to technique to calm her down as of late, mainly because Amity has been very _stressed_ as of late. It makes her feel like a sandwich, and for some reason, that thought is calming. Maybe it’s just having Luz’s hands on her face. Or _maybe_ it’s the concept that, were she a sandwich, she wouldn’t have crippling anxiety like she does.

“What are you?” Luz asks.

“I’m a smart sandwich.”

“You’re a smart sandwich, _yes._ ” Luz gives her a quick kiss. “You’re _my_ smart sandwich. This is going to be _great!”_

This time it’s more the kiss than having a sandwich face that alleviates some of the nerves that have taken up residence in her chest. She gives Luz a weak smile. “Do you really think so? Like, honestly?”

Luz releases her face to take her hands. “Amity, I’ve known her for… well, for as long as I’ve been alive. Because, you know. She—I mean, she _did_ give birth to me—“

“No, yeah, I got it. I get it.”

“And I’ve known you for _two years._ Can you believe that? We’ve been dating for almost _two years—_ “

“And I’m _just now_ meeting your mom. Do you realize—oh, _T_ _itan_ —you realize she’s going to hate me, right?”

“ _Amor,_ ” Luz says, squeezing her hands. It’s gentle and understanding—everything Amity had fallen and continues to fall in love with. “Like I was saying, I know you both. So it stands to reason that I _also_ know that you’re going to get along! You’ve got this.”

“ _Voy a tener un infarto.”_

Luz snorts so violently she starts coughing. “Where—oh my _god_ —where did you learn that? Did I teach you that?”

Even though she’s not calmed down by any stretch of the imagination, Amity can’t help but crack a smile at Luz’s reaction. It’s always fun to catch her off-guard with Spanish, and she’d been saving that one in particular. “The book you gave me. The—“

Luz immediately perks up. “The book my _mom_ gave me to give to _you?_ Is it that one?”

Amity can’t believe that she has the audacity to start with her right now—“Luz, don’t start with me, I’m _stressed—“_

“Amity, my mom gave me that book to give to you! As a present, remember? Because she _already likes you!_ ”

“ _Okay!”_ Amity throws her hands up. She sighs, defeated, and meets Luz’s distractingly beautiful eyes. “I just want to do this right, you know?”

“You’re Amity _Blight_. You’re always… _right._ ”

Sometimes she loves Luz so much it makes her teeth hurt. She stares at the other girl, who’s begun chuckling to herself. “If I break up with you now, does it mean I won’t have to do this?”

Luz grabs her hand, grinning. “Nope! _Vamos!”_

* * *

There’s a public portal in the heart of Bonesborough. It crackles with energy as they pass through, leaving the Boiling Isles behind along with a handful of other inter-dimensional travelers. It strikes many as novel now, but when the portal had first been constructed, it had been a revolution for humans and witches alike. Now it’s just one of many rundown archways throughout the Isles—a pathway for commerce and travel like any other.

Before this very moment, she’s been to the human realm twice. Once, alone on an insane quest to find a song for a girl she liked (frightening). Then, with said girl and a gang of misfits to beat the ousted Emperor within an inch of his life (very frightening). Now, she’s meeting said girl’s mother ( _the most frightening thing she has ever had to do_ ).

Luz has explained the whole process several times, at Amity’s increasingly frantic request. They have to go to the station to take a _bus_ , not an egg, and the bus will take them ten blocks from her mother’s house. They’ll walk the rest of the way. That last part is the problem: it’s a _lot_ of extra time for Amity to worry.

She clutches her gift like her life depends on it. In many ways, it probably does.

Luz nudges her as they walk. “Still not going to give me any clues?”

“It’s a surprise!” Amity protests, hugging the thing to her chest. “Besides, if I talk about it, I’m going to start doubting myself and—“

“If you start doubting, you’re going to throw it away, I _know._ ” She pouts at Amity, which is absolutely against the rules of engagement. Luz _knows_ how adorable she is. “But you’re so good at gift-giving! I just want to know so I can be supportive…”

Amity slaps her wandering hand away. “Be patient, _amor._ ” She tries to say it with a bite, but Luz’s expression softens at the pet name, and Amity knows she’ll never be immune to that face.

“You know I love it when you speak Spanish,” Luz hums, forgoing her inquisition to lace her fingers through Amity’s. “Your accent is like, _impeccable._ ”

“It’ll never be _impeccable,_ ” Amity chuckles, but she can’t help but flush at the praise. “I’ve got a long way to go.”

“But you’ve come such a long way! You can almost roll your r’s now! You know how hard that is?” Luz scoffs haughtily, resting a hand on her chest. “I mean, not for _me._ I’m a natural.”

“It’s your first language,” Amity deadpans, “it doesn’t count.”

“It counts!”

“It doesn’t.”

“Mmm…” Luz starts counting the fingers of her free hand like an imp. “ _Uno, dos, tres_ … oh look, it _counts!”_

Amity stares at her, affronted. Luz is unbothered. She smirks like she knows she’s doing something wrong and has no intention of changing her behavior. Amity can joke and complain all she wants, but she’d never change a single thing about her girlfriend. She smiles to herself, as she has many times in these two years. _Girlfriend_.

The walk is much more relaxing than she’d anticipated. It’s early fall in the human realm. The trees are changing color, the air is brisk, and Luz is humming their song. For several blocks, Amity can pretend that nothing’s about to go seriously wrong—

“We’re here!” Luz announces, snapping Amity bodily from her reverie.

The house in front of them is quaint. Unassuming. Not in any way like the Owl House and _definitely_ nothing like Blight Manor. The screen door opens, and there she is: Camilia Noceda. Decidedly less Grom-like than the one other time Amity’s seen her, but much more frightening. There’s more at stake here than there ever was at Grom.

Amity swallows her fear and lets Luz lead her on.

“Come in, come in! I made _sancocho!_ ”

* * *

“Luz has done nothing but talk about you for the past two years, you know.” She serves Luz a heaping bowl of stew. “Every phone call, every visit.”

“ _Mamí—_ “

“She says you’re the best thing since they invented the wheel.” She serves Amity a bowl. It smells like heaven, but rattled as she is by the topic of conversation, Amity has never felt less inclined to eat in her entire life. “Or, ‘ _since they invented the anime_ ’ is what I think she said.”

“ _Mom—_ “

“And I believe her.” Luz snaps her mouth shut. Her mother sits with her own bowl and smiles at her daughter, and then back at Amity. “Luz has always been a good judge of character.”

Someone unplugs the jackhammer in Amity’s chest. “Oh! Um… thank you Ms. Noceda—uh— _Señora_ Noceda, I mean. Um…” She digs around in her pockets. Where are her flashcards? _Where are her flashcards?_ “ _D-_ uh- _Doña?”_

“ _Mija_ , she has a better accent than you.”

“ _What—_ “

“Did Luz give you the book I gave her for you?”

The flashcards are nowhere to be found, and Amity is completely, one hundred percent out of her depth. She wipes her sweaty palms on her leggings, sputtering an answer like she’s only very recently gotten a handle on language. “Yes, um… ma’am. I’ve been—well, I’ve been studying with it on my own. Then, also. I—Luz and I practice when we can.”

Luz takes her hand, and it grounds her for a single, blissful second before she’s is yanking Amity right back out of her comfort zone. “Tell my mom what you said to me today! _Mamí,_ listen.”

“I… uh.” She clears her throat, praying in vain to whatever gods might be watching over this house. “ _Voy..._ um, _voy_ _a tener un infarto._ ”

It comes out surprisingly well, despite it all. And Luz’s mother actually _laughs_ , which makes Amity feel very much like she’s won the lottery. It’s the confidence boost she needs to taste the stew. It had been one of Luz’s rules after all.

Luz's House Rules, courtesy of Luz:

1\. Be respectful. ( _“Of course I’m going to be respectful. You think I’d be disrespectful to your_ mother?)

2\. Eat everything she gives you. ( _“I mean, you’ve always said that she’s a great cook. Wh—don’t give me that face—“)_

3\. Wear stretchy pants. ( _“Ohhh.”_ )

The rules are clear now. Not only is _sancocho_ the most delicious thing Amity has ever tasted, it is also heartier than anything she’s ever eaten, and Luz will absolutely be rolling her home after her first bowl. To make matters worse (read: better), there are _tostones_ on the table, with that “world-famous _mojo_ ” Luz has been speaking so highly of. If she dies today underneath a mountain of Dominican food, it will have been well worth it.

“Amity, how do you like the _sancocho?_ Luz told me she’s cooked for you.” She cuts her eyes at Luz. “Which is funny because when she gets home, she completely forgets what a frying pan looks like.”

“I don’t _forget!”_ Luz shovels a few more spoonfuls in her mouth, a finger from her free hand raised in protest. “You just cook so much _better_ than me.”

“Didn’t your mom teach you how to cook?” Amity offers, and it earns her both a look of betrayal from Luz and one of approval from her mother.

“Whose side are you _on?”_

“The right side,” says Luz’s mother. She gives Amity a wink.

Well, Luz _had_ said that she was always right.

After that, things are remarkably pleasant. Ms. Noceda is easy to talk to, which is a first as far as mothers go in Amity’s book. Talking to her own mother has always been something akin to a trial, but Luz’s mother only asks questions Amity is ready and willing to answer. They talk about school, about Willow and Gus, Eda and Lilith and the Owl House. By the time Amity has shoved the last _mojo_ -laden _toston_ in her mouth, overwhelmed with both flavor and volume, she’s stuffed, but comfortable. It’s something she hasn’t been in a while.

But then there’s dessert, obviously.

“You _didn’t_ ,” Luz gasps.

“It’s your favorite, _cariño,_ of course I made it.” She looks to Amity. “Have you ever had _arroz con leche?”_

“Luz may have mentioned it two or eighty-five times.”

“You don’t _understand_ —she doesn’t understand, Mom—but you will now!”

There is no way she can manage another bite of _anything_ without exploding, but she’s nothing if not a stickler for rules, and Luz’s had been very clear. Not only that, every time Luz has ever mentioned the dish, she seems to go into some kind of trance. Luz may be dramatic, and it may be extraordinarily endearing, but Amity has known her for long enough to understand when she’s giving a genuine opinion. So she offers to grab the dessert, hoping against hope that the walk to the kitchen will give her a moment to collect herself before having to eat again.

It might be the food coma she’s slipping into, but she checks the oven first. It’s off, filled to the brim with pots and pans. Amity doesn’t question _that_ , but she does question her reasoning.

The dessert is, quite obviously, in the fridge.

“ _Arroz con leche! Arroz con leche!_ ” Luz is chanting when Amity waddles back to the dining room table. In several ways, the girl is very much like a black hole. Amity’s never quite figured out where all the food is going, and the quantity never seems to effect the shape of the object. Granted, she doesn’t know how black holes work, so it might just be that Luz is a teenager.

Luz hoots until she gets a bite, slumping back in her chair when she does. “Mom, I don’t know how you do it.”

“Years of practice, _niña._ I gave you my recipe.”

“Yes but _these—_ “ She holds up her hands, glaring at them. “—these _wretched_ things _._ They’ll never be good enough.”

“You have to follow the recipe for it to work, you know.”

Luz stares at her, open-mouthed. It’s a decent jab, by Amity’s own standards, but the lack of comment from the other side of the table is a little frightening.

Then, however, “ _Mija_ , I think I like your girlfriend better than you.”

“ _Mom!”_

Amity snorts into her glass of water. It’s not polite, but the table erupts into laughter, and Luz takes her hand again, grinning from ear-to-ear.

If she didn’t know any better, she’d say that Luz was glowing. It’s silly, of course. Her glyphs don’t work in the human realm.

* * *

After dessert (there seems to be a theme, because _arroz con leche_ , like _sancocho,_ is _also_ the best thing Amity has ever eaten), the three of them wash dishes together and retire to the living room. Luz immediately has the brilliant idea to go looking for old photo albums, because leave it to Luz Noceda to be immune to the most stereotypically embarrassing activity in the world.

Ms. Noceda has made thick, sweet coffee in tiny cups. She sets two cups on the coffee table and hands Amity her own. It’s delicious, like everything else, and the gesture reminds her—

“I hope you don’t mind, but I brought you something.” She pulls the gift from her bag and offers it clumsily, arms outstretched, almost as if the thing will catch fire. She doesn’t want Luz’s mother thinking it’s dangerous. She reels it in. “It’s no problem if you don’t like it, or can’t use it—“

“ _Ay, que linda—_ sweetie, you didn’t have to bring me anything.” She smiles in a way that can only be described as _maternal_ , although Amity realizes she’s never been on the receiving end of such an expression. “I’m just so glad I was able to meet you, _finally._ ”

Amity just smiles, unsure of how to answer. She’d wanted to meet her, too. Of course in the interim, there had been rulers to overthrow, monsters to slay, and a very demanding nine-to-five at the hospital.

Luz’s mother takes the gift, though, and motions for Amity to sit beside her on the floral-print couch. She’s careful with the wrapping paper, just as careful as Amity had been wrapping it. In the fog of her worry, Amity wonders absently if the two of them have more in common than Luz has ever let on.

“It’s a scrapbook,” Amity explains once the wrapping is gone. “I have a matching one, and I’ve enchanted them so that when I add something to mine, you’ll see it in yours.” She sits forward, noticing how Ms. Noceda's finger traces a picture of Luz with a ukulele. Above, Amity has affixed some of the lyrics to " _Como Fué"_. She smiles at the memory, and hopes Luz’s mother will feel the same. “I figured since you’re both so busy, it might help to… keep each other up-to-date, I guess.”

Luz’s mother flips through the pages for a few moments, quiet. In that deafening silence, Amity has the rather unfortunate opportunity to rev up her personal Self-Doubt Machine, and the thing really gets going the longer they sit there.

Finally, she shuts the book with a sound that shatters Amity’s poor excuse for composure. She turns to Amity, and the image of this exactly, two years ago with the younger Noceda, almost gives Amity whiplash. She’s not crying like Luz had been, but her eyes are watery when she takes Amity’s hands.

“This is so beautiful, Amity,” she says, “I know it’s just the two of us, but I hope you know that you’re part of our family.”

Amity is at a loss. She just leans in to the following hug and thanks every star in the sky that Luz has grown up in such a loving, supportive home. It’s much rarer than people seem to think.

“I found them!” Luz disembodied voice bellows, accompanied by the telltale thuds of her footsteps on the stairs.

“You know she was loud from birth,” Ms. Noceda says with a smirk as she sits back. “The day she was born, she cried so much I was the only one who would stay in the room with her. Her grandparents went across the street and bought earplugs for themselves.”

“So absolutely nothing’s changed, then?”

Luz leaps into the living room, arms laden with photo albums. “Witness me! In my arms I hold windows into… _the past!_ ”

Ms. Noceda pats Amity on the knee. “Nothing’s changed.”

* * *

Later they’re sent off with ten pounds of food. What’s more, Luz’s mother sneaks Amity a folder full of embarrassing baby pictures when Luz isn’t looking.

“These are the worst ones,” she whispers, and never in her life has Amity received a more valuable gift.

The parting hugs are warm and wonderful, and they promise to visit again. Amity’s stomach and heart are so full, and Luz takes her hand as they walk in the waning twilight. She looks over at her girlfriend, at the silky brown hair she’s recently started wearing longer, the eyes that never fail to make her heart skip a beat, the smile that always has her beaming back. And she thinks—

“I love you,” Luz says. “Thank you for coming with me.”

She’ll never get tired of hearing it. “I love you too. And just because I was a little nervous never meant I wouldn’t come.”

“A _little?_ You were a _little_ nervous?”

Amity clutches her chest. “The human, she wounds!”

“ _Que exagerada._ ”

“Look who’s talking!”

“Yeah, but I—oh! Did you—“ Luz looks around, frantic, obviously remembering something. “Did you give my mom your present?”

“I did.” It reminds her of what Luz’s mother had said, about being part of the family. She smiles, but Luz looks less than thrilled.

“Without me?”

“You’ll see what it is. One day, I’m sure.”

“ _One day?_ Amity, that could be forever years from now!”

It could be. It's the promise of a future, a new-found family. Luz _will_ see it one day. 

Just not now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know why I did it!! I thought it would be cute!! I don't know!!
> 
> (i hope y'all liked it tho)
> 
> "voy a tener un infarto" - "i'm going to have a heart attack" lol

**Author's Note:**

> thank u gaby for telling me about this show, thank u dana terrace for giving us the gay
> 
> amen
> 
> come chat with me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/bazaarwords) and [tumblr](https://bazaarwords.tumblr.com/) :))
> 
> EDIT 8/29: i made some minor edits and saw OVER 800 KUDOS??? y'all are awesome, many thanks :))))


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